


Flytrap

by Moonrose001



Series: Venus Flytrap [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes Returns, M/M, Natasha won't admit to her hoarding problem, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tell me if anything else needs to be tagged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose001/pseuds/Moonrose001
Summary: And Steve realizes that for so long, he has hated his body. When it did too little, did too much. Wasn’t it time he gave it a break? Wherein Steve tries to find the ultimate pad, Natasha has a hoarding problem, Tony does not grab anyone by the pussy and Bucky learns to do princess hair styles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this chapter deals mostly with team acclimation and coming out. Sorry for the long wait, I've been having some issues editing/proofreading (any beta volunteers?). I'm looking forward to your feedback. Thank you so much for the kudos and comments you bestowed on me on the last fic :D  
> Let me know if something seems off to you, and otherwise enjoy reading ^^

Steve wanted to exercise, but the local gym was no longer enough. He wants to go to Tony’s gym. Tony has a cool gym. A program controls it, and it automatically accounts for damage control, and is able to initiate attack by estimating the player’s level of power, speed and precision, and compare it to the other times you’ve been training. Also, Tony programmed the dummies and targets to spout specific shit like: “What? Am I not Nazi enough for you to kill me properly?” and repeat old broadcasts of every game the Dodgers have ever lost. Steve didn’t feel totally at ease with the team yet, but he forces himself to go, both to train and because he has to get used to them knowing in some way.

As Steve takes the elevator up to the Avengers Floor, after having worked out in Tony’s gym, he pulls off his T-shirt and wipes his chest from sweat drops before it gets too damp. When the elevator eventually stops and dings, Steve stomps out and heads straight for the kitchen with the supersized fridges. Unexpectedly Pepper and Tony are already sitting there, and it’s uncommon for them to be up this early without being at work already.

”Oh my god,” Pepper bursts out, holding her hands over her eyes.

Tony unabashedly keeps staring, until Pepper puts her other hand on his eyes as well.

Steve grunts in reply, throwing open the fridge and pulling out a huge bottle of water, immediately uncapping it.

”Steve,” Pepper says, sounding embarrassed. ”Steve, you’re… Where’s your shirt?”

Steve doesn’t reply immediately. He drinks the bottle of water. ”Why? There isn’t anything you haven’t seen before.”

”We thought you were an alpha at that point,” Tony answers.

”They’re just tits,” Steve dismisses her. It isn’t his fault they had mistaken the roundness of them as solely muscle.

”Good morning,” Thor says, yawning as he steps into the kitchen, of course here for the supersized fridges as well. He looks from Steve to the alphas. ”Is something the matter with your appearance, Steven, which makes our friends turn their faces away?”

”They’re embarrassed because I don’t have a shirt on,” Steve replies.

Thor nods. ”Have no worries, Captain, your chest is a formidable piece of beauty.”

”Thank you, Thor,” Steve says and cracks the first smile in some time.

”Do you wish to have breakfast with me and go welcome my dearest lady Jane afterwards?” Thor asks. ”I have been told by the kind doctor, that there’s an excellent pancake diner close to the metro station.”

”Sure,” Steve complies. ”Let me go take a shower first.”

”I will be waiting, Captain,” Thor nods and Steve turns around and walks out of there.

\-----

When Steve had first come home from his manhunt, Tony immediately asks him to come to the Tower. Steve of course, didn’t like the sound of that, so he postponed it until Stark sent a limousine with Clint in it, who personally came to fetch him. Steve obeys, taking his time getting dressed and even microwaves a hot pocket to eat on the way.

Steve gets there without showing his nervousness, and is surprised to see the whole team is there. He stops suddenly, and Clint walks into him, and wild thoughts of ambush overcome him. Why is Clint walking behind him? To make sure Steve can’t get away? And why are they all here? Why are they looking so quiet and doomed?

But Natasha is quick to catch his eyes, and Steve composes himself, before he goes in. Pushing himself, he sits at the table. His palms are getting sweaty, anxiety tasting like bile in the back of his mouth.

“So, why are we here?” His voice is coming out steady, and he forces himself to look at them, establish eye contact and show he’s not being inferior.

It’s Tony’s face, which hits him the hardest. He looks downright pitying as he stares at Steve.

“Don’t,” Steve growls, and Tony’s brows rise slightly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Tony takes a deliberate deep breath, like he’s trying to hold in all of his irritation, and smiles knowingly. “So this explains a lot,” he says, his voice intentionally soft.

Steve narrows his eyes. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Handling me with kid gloves.” Natasha nods at him. Bruce smiles encouragingly. Thor looks pissed. Clint looks like he doesn’t understand why he is here (which is an all-around expression with him). “I’m omega. Is that what we’re here to talk about?”

He sounds defensive, even aggressive, and while he feared this is what would happen, he can’t really believe it either.

“Cap, this doesn’t change anything,” Clint drawls. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we’re here.”

“We’re hear to talk about the team, now that one of them is an omega,” Tony tells him.

“What about the team?” His stomach churns, and his hands clench down on the table. He leans back. “You’re questioning my capability?”

“No, no, no,” Bruce quickly jumps in, putting his hands on the table. “Not at all, Steve. But we need to know what to do in case of emergencies.”

“Like what?” Steve asks, and he sounds and feels unbelievably tired. “Are you going to talk to me about how my sex, what, changes the dynamics of the team?”

“More like the fact that you’re off suppressants,” Tony answers him. “I swear to you, Cap, I’m not as big of a douche as you think I am. We’re only talking about this, because you’ve decided to go natural.”

“And because you felt entitled to an explanation, to which the Captain doesn’t own you,” Thor finally speaks up.

Tony doesn’t shoot back immediately which is unlike him. Instead he turns around. “You knew.”

“A matter of course,” Thor huffs. “But at no point did it differ my opinion of him.”

“I haven’t – “

“Okay, just stop,” Steve intervenes. “Alright, I understand that some of you might feel irritated that I kept such an essential part of my character to myself.”

Now the team is looking at him sharply, attentive and curious, and as suspected, he’s right. They do feel annoyed, even though he’s pretty sure none of them will actually come out and admit that. But he doesn’t think they’re annoyed because they don’t trust an omega on the team. As he reads their expressions, he has a feeling it’s because he’s their friend. And friends don’t carry such important secrets as long as Steve did.

And all the anxiety and fear flushes out of him, and he feels his body slump.

“Look,” he starts. “Being an omega back in my time was, as you have already guessed, different. I realize things have changed, but that doesn’t change how my experience has changed my perspective and my ways of going about my designation.”

It sounds rehearsed, and he guesses somewhere, it is.

“Being a male omega back then,” Steve begins, and then bites his lip. “It wasn’t safe. And the few people, who knew about my designation, were actually surprised to learn that nothing ever happened me before the serum. Because of factors like malnutrition and various physical disabilities, my hormones, pheromones and reproductive system were underdeveloped. It was good in some way. I could pretend to me a beta, and walk around freely. But then the serum happened, and things weren’t the same. Physically I was capable of protecting myself, and yet I was more vulnerable than ever before.”

“Do you fear for you safety?” Tony neutrally asks, though there’s something like pain etched in the lines around his eyes.

“No,” Steve is quick to answer. “No. I don’t. I’m not scared of any alphas in this team. I know you. And I guess that’s why I honestly don’t regret lying. It gave me a feeling of security, and I got to know you personally without being so afraid. But the thing is.” Steve’s swallows and tries again: “Fear shapes you. Paranoia shapes you. When you say … no. And they don’t listen. It stays with you. And not everybody on this team, knows how that changes the way you perceive people. I’m not afraid you; I trust you. But something inside of me, is afraid of what you are capable of doing.”

Bruce’s face darkens, and Tony looks away, drawing in a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry,” Steve can’t help but say. “I know that’s not easy to hear.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bruce almost whispers, as he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes.

There’s an awkward silence for a long time, and Steve wants to die.

“I’m very glad you talked to us about it,” Tony finally says. “And I’m sorry if anything I ever said before, made you feel like I was out of line. I would like for you to please tell me if I do so in the future.”

Steve stares at him. “I’m sorry to break the moment, but did Pepper teach you to say that?”

“You broke the moment,” Tony complains, looking at him witheringly.

“Listen,” Steve says. “I’m glad we had this talk. I should’ve probably tried clearing things sooner. Knowing this about me, I know it won’t change your view of me. I’ve gone through some shit, but so have all of you.”

“Called it!” Clint said, and stuck his hand towards Tony, who grudgingly handed him a 20.

“We bet you’d make this into a team pep talk,” Tony says.

\----  
A few days after the talk, Steve is in Target. He’s buying basic supplies for his heat; neutralizers, caffeine-free tea, hot water bottles, and at home, in the bottom of his closet, even lies a plug. He’s going through his mental list, when he gets to the pads section. He knows some paparazzi has been following him for the past rows, but he’s out and there’s nothing embarrassing about buying hygiene products.

He stares at the packages, and the more he looks the more doubt grows in him. A friendly hostess at a motel had supplied Steve the pads during his manhunt, but he has no idea what kind they were. And he’s not even sure they were right for him. They kept shriveling when he walked for a long time, and he even leaked through at some point. So clearly, he needed something sturdier?

He finds a package with 5 drop symbols on it, and studies it. A moment of examination tells him it’s for people with irregular and powerful heats, which sounds right. But just as he’s about to throw it in the basket, he notices its measures. The pads are roughly as big as diapers.

Steve sighs, and puts it back. All right, something less drastic. So less drop symbols, right? He finds a packet, which has built-in neutral scent neutralizers, but they are apparently not for heats, but for the excess fluids after intercourse. Then he finds another packet, this time with wings, which would secure the leaks, but they are for female omegas. Steve finds a pack for male omegas, but the manufacturers clearly doesn’t take flexibility into account, because the pads are tiny (meaning to only fit the space behind his balls), and it has no wings nor scent neutralizers.

Steve grabs his finds and calls.

“Mwhellooo Captain Small-Ass,” Sam greets.

“Hello Falcon Big Butt,” Steve shoots back. “What pads do you think fit me the bst?”

Sam ponders about that for a moment. “Uh, don’t manufacturers take stuff like athleticism and amount of leaking into account?”

“Yes,” Steve says. “But I can only find some for female omegas.”

“Well, I don’t know what to then,” Sam apologetically says. “I’ve only had female omegas as partners, so I only know about those brands.”

“I can’t call anybody else,” Steve groans. “Only person who I think has dealt with it, is Natasha, but I don’t want to presume.”

“That’s fair,” Sam agrees. “You could still give it a try though. You don’t have to presume to ask for advice. This century is new to you, I think she will understand.”

“Maybe,” Steve says, internally cursing himself for not having made more research from home. “After our group meeting, she took off back to Moscow. Something about opera.”

“Well, it is once upon a December.”

“What?”

“Write that down in your book. What about the pads that hotel lady gave you?”

“I don’t think they were the right fit for me,” Steve says, hating to sound ungrateful. “They weren’t leak-proof, and I feel like the frenzy my heat caused could have been diminished if I wasn’t leaking and had scent neutralizers.”

“Can’t you just spray your scent neutralizer on the pads?”

“I don’t think that’s healthy to my neither regents.”

“Damn, your biology is complicated,” Sam groans.

Someone coughs behind him.

A middle-height male omega, with a healthy padding of fat on his stomach, and shoulder-long blond hair is smiling weirdly endearingly at Steve. His eyes are kind and blue, and he’s holding the arm of a leanly muscled man, who’s wearing red round sunglasses and a white cane.

“Sam, I’ll call you back in a moment,” Steve tells him, and Sam goes “ _Wait, why -_ ” before he hangs up.

Steve looks the two men over. The blind one is an alpha, and his pheromones are strong and possessive on the male beside him. He pretends that his lack of sight is a lack of hearing though, and he completely ignores the situation, when the blond man exclaims: “You really are an omega!” the man exclaims, and he’s grinning broadly.

Steve can’t help but return it. “Yeah. You are?”

“Oh, Foggy Nelson!” Foggy is about to walk ahead and drag his partner, so Steve quickly steps closer and shakes the man’s hand. The alpha beside him breathes in deeply, and Steve narrows his eyes at him. How could he do that right beside his partner?

“Oh, don’t mind that,” Foggy says, obviously sensing the quickly building tension. “His sense of smell is really strong because of his lack of eyesight. He said the whole store smelled of you, that’s how we knew you were here.”

“Excuse me?” Steve says.

“If I can interrupt,” the blind man says. “What Foggy means, is that yes, I could smell you very strongly when we came in, not that we have been following you.”

“Is it really that bad?” Steve worriedly asks, and sniffs the seam of his sleeve on top of his wrist gland, which he had spray with scent neutralizers less than an hour ago. It stinks, to say it mildly. “Oh god, it must be overwhelming for you.”

“Don’t apologize,” the man says, while shaking his head.. “I believe your pheromones must be stronger, because of your… enhancement.”

“Great,” Steve sullenly says.

“Now, you listen, Cap.” Foggy lets go of his partner and throws an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “The categorization of this chaotic system isn’t female omega, female beta and male omega. It’s actually categorized by…”

\-----

Where the Hell is Bucky?

\-----

After having exchanged phone numbers, Foggy goes ahead and sends Steve a bunch of links and Steve learns a lot about Omega Stuff.

He learns about the Vary Sibling tendency. It means that if you give birth to an alpha girl, there’s a 50% chance you’ll get an omega girl afterwards, unless they’re identical twins. If you give birth to an omega girl, there’s a 37,5% chance that you’ll give birth to an alpha boy afterwards. If you give birth to an omega boy, there’s an 87% possibility that his siblings will be betas. Historians and sociologists explained that because male omegas tended to not be closely related with alphas, less people defended them and less people honored them. That way, as the result, societies through history had overall stopped caring too much about them, seeing that tainting them wouldn’t trigger any alpha wars or challenge any families with worthy opponents.

He finds out, that one of the biggest things disrupting hormone balances is diet. More importantly, not eating things your body can’t handle.

Steve thinks back to all of the gluten, shrimp and lactose he has eaten over the years, knowing damn well his stomach and body hated the food. But at best, it was the food Bucky and he could afford. At worst, there wasn’t food. He thinks about how his life could’ve gone differently, if he had eaten right. Would it have changed the course of his life too much? Made things between Bucky and him spark sooner? Would he have been more fertile? Could he have taken better care of himself?

There is no use thinking about it. He didn’t have access to this knowledge back then, and though the knowledge might have solved some things, the past was the past and there was no use crying about it.

And still, he remembers the results of the tests Erskine did before Steve was given the serum. His body was feeble and undernourished in the scans. The severe hormone imbalances, and the low number of omega testosterone he should’ve produced more of. His uterus was underdeveloped, his hips didn’t have the slight roundedness, and his chest wasn’t soft.

And he realizes that for so long, he has hated his body. When it did too little, did too much.

Wasn’t it time he gave it a break?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes head out* Heeeey. Sorry for the long wait; finals, a cancer scare and many of you have been celebrating Christmas, and this chapter was just really hard to get out. After this the updates should be coming sooner, since this was the toughest situation, where I had a hard time imagining what the characters would do, how they would feel about, why they would feel that way, how they would fail and how they would cope. To put it bluntly, both Steve and Bucky are in hard positions, and there's no solution and that's hard to write TT__TT  
> I hope otherwise you'll all enjoy!

Steve wakes up because something is wrong. Some people might be surprised and Sam calls it a ”sixth sense” but really it’s like something in Steve is always aware of his surroundings, even in his sleep, and with his enhanced senses it’s easy to pick up the change in sounds and temperatures. He sits up, and hears the window close in his living room.

”Who’s there?” Steve growls, but a moment later he can smell the piney, fresh smell that is Bucky’s scent, mingled with the scent of salt water and frosted air.

Bucky wordlessly walks into the bedroom. He’s wearing dark blue jeans, a brown shirt and an olive green jacket. He pulls a black cap off, and his hair looks newly washed. Steve doesn’t know what he had been an expecting; perhaps a mess. If Bucky had been a mess, then maybe Steve would’ve been calmer about the three months of absence.

“Sit here,” Steve calls out, trying to sound calm, even as the disappointment and belated grief over the person Steve once knew wells up in his throat, tasting like bile and sour milk.

Bucky freezes, as if he feels the undercurrent of negativity in Steve’s voice, but he bolts forwards and sits besides Steve.

“Where’ve you been?” Steve asks.

Bucky looks at Steve and then at window, looking slightly panicked.

“I’m not mad,” Steve says, and instead of answering Bucky reaches out, and pulls Steve towards him.

For a minute Steve allows it. He breathes in Bucky’s scent, and for the first time it comes off as repulsive and harsh, rather than flaring and sharp.

Then Steve forces himself to pull back. “What can I do for you, Bucky?” he asks. “What do you need?”

“I…” His eyes flicker, and Steve realizes that he’s nervous. That he doesn’t feel in control like last time. “I want you.”

“Alright.” Steve leans back in and even as Bucky exhales and loosens, Steve knows he’s still thinking.

After several minutes, Bucky slowly says: “I want to help you through your heat.”

The air disappears from Steve’s lungs. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky bites his lip. He almost looks like a child. “I’m sorry I … I left.”

“It’s fine. I forgive you.” He doesn’t. “But I can’t do that with you again, Bucky. Do you know what happens when you do that?”

Fuck. He closes his eyes.

“You drop,” Bucky whispers, sounding like he’s in pain.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers back. “I’m still here for you though. But I’d rather we keep this platonic, if you’re not... when you can’t…”

“I can,” Bucky says, turning around. “I swear. I won’t leave this time.”

“Bucky…”

“I left last time because I couldn’t… I couldn’t…” Bucky stutters. “Be strong. For too long. But now I’ve. I’ve gotten better, Steve.”

“Bucky.”

“Please.”

“Bucky.” Steve leans forwards, and puts his hands on Bucky’s cheeks, meeting his eyes, as he strokes his fingers through the silky dark hair. “You don’t have to proof anything to me. Me saying no isn’t me leaving you.”

“Just you taking a break?” Bucky barks a laugh.

“If that’s what needs to happen,” Steve calmly answers.

He tries to be firm, but he knows that Bucky can smell the weakness, smelling the softness on the back of Steve’s knees, how Steve loosens. In respond Bucky is emitting pheromones fast, and Steve inhales.

Bucky kisses his cheek, and Steve can’t help but close his eyes. He can’t help but want the safety in having his alpha with him through his heat; going through a heat alone is lonely and frustrating, downright painful at times. Steve knows, because he has been going through his past three heats alone, somewhere desperately hoping that Bucky would magically show up with the composure he showed last time, right up until he left.

It’s this thought, which makes Steve pull away. Bucky closes his eyes, frowning as he tenses.

“Just hold me,” Steve whispers. “Just hold me.”

And Bucky nods sharply, and Steve slides down on his side. Bucky wriggles forwards, until he’s spooning Steve’s figure. His skin is hot and hard with tight muscles. His metal arm curls around Steve’s waist, and his nose touches the hollow of Steve’s neck. Steve inhales the smell of him.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers. His voice is shaking.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers back.

He doesn’t ask Bucky to stay.

And for hours he’s just laying there, listening to Bucky’s breathing. Bucky’s not sleeping either, and it’s weird to be tense and relaxed all at once. He can feel his thoughts racing through his head, and he can feel Bucky’s thoughts racing the same ways. Steve wonders what he’s going to do; soon his heat will be coming up. Either Bucky is forced to watch, and Steve will probably become soft and let him help, or Steve will have to ask Bucky to leave. And who knows if the alpha would be coming back. He’s so vulnerable right now and Steve can tell a lot of his composure is reflected in how strong he can be for Steve.

Steve sighs.

“Screw it,” he whispers, putting his fear aside. “Help me.”

He can’t ask Bucky to stay.

Bucky holds his breath. “Are you sure?” he asks, after a while.

There is no other option. Steve can’t let Bucky slip away, when it’s in his power to not let him.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers back, and flattens his hands on Bucky’s back to make the statement stronger. Bucky shivers and Steve’s hands turn into fists, curling the fabric of Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky exhales heavily, and sits up to shucks off his shirt. Before Steve can start doing the same, Bucky holds down his hands. Steve nods, and Bucky takes off his pants and underwear. Then Bucky is sitting on his knees, completely naked and exposed. Bare.

Steve breathes in the scent of pine needles, and puts his hand on Bucky’s hips. He’s halfway hard. The hair that used to be on his chest is gone. There’s only a dark puddle of hair on his abdomen, trailing down to his cock.

Bucky almost suddenly bows down, and instead of getting to work with Steve’s clothes, he’s rubbing his face and jaw into the hollow of Steve’s neck, while undulating his body against Steve’s clothes. It’s not sexual; he’s rubbing in his scent. Steve blinks at the ceiling, his face feeling flushed as Bucky’s pheromones kick starts Steve’s heat.

Finally, he feels the soft pressure of lips against his neck and Steve is quivering. Bucky’s hands let go of Steve’s and they slide down to gently grip Steve’s shoulders. So unbearably gentle. Like he knows any harsh movement is going to break Steve. Steve closes his eyes, and turns his face away.

Bucky’s hands tighten as Steve’s shivers get worse, like he’s trying to hold Steve together.

“I need you,” Bucky whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Steve swallows, and after a moment, he forces himself to look down at Bucky. “Don’t be.”

Greed overcomes him as he looks down at Bucky, the bulging shoulders, one of them reflecting the light of the street lamps outside, the soft curve of his arched spine and the bold peaks of his ass cheeks. His hairy legs and his socked feet.

When Steve meets Bucky’s eyes, there’s something intense going on in their grey depths. Bucky supports himself on his hands, rising up as he meets Steve in a kiss.

“Are you sure you want to?” Steve whispers against his lips, when Bucky pulls back. “We don’t have to. Not if you’re only doing it for my sake.”

Bucky pauses, and closes his mouth. Steve holds his breath, and even though he wants consent, he still knows it will break him if Bucky is really just doing this because he feels like he has to. Bucky lowers his forehead on Steve’s shoulder.

“I want to,” Bucky says. “You’re everything I have left of who I was before they unmade me.”

Steve swallows. So this is Bucky trying to re-collect himself, and so far the only live piece of the puzzle is Steve. Still, Steve can’t help but wonder if the puzzle will be frustrating enough for Bucky to throw it away in the end. After all, there’s not much left of Bucky’s history. His pa died in the Great War, his ma died in the 60’es, and his sisters are all dead. Rebecca left a few grandchildren, but Mary died when she was 17 in a car accident, and Bonnie never had any kids. The Howling Commandos either died in wars following or of old age. Steve fears that the pieces left will never be enough. Still, Steve has to try to compensate.

But it still means, that Bucky is doing this out of obligation. Just not for Steve’s sake, but for his own and Steve is willing to do that for him. He will do anything.

“You keep asking me if I really want to, because you don’t want to,” Bucky mumbles against his neck.

“No. I mean yes. I want to,” Steve says and his arms, which have been laying motionless by his sides, rise up to slide hands down Bucky’s back.

“Why?” Bucky asks, his voice hollow.

Steve hesitates and Bucky gets up. He stares at Steve, who’s trying to find the right answer, and then sits down at the edge of the bed, when Steve is unable to find it.

“What if I say no, and you’ll leave because of it?” Steve asks instead. “I want this, Bucky. You know I do.”

Bucky looks back at him. His gaze is intense for a moment, before his shoulders fall. “I can’t stay here, Steve,” he gently says. “It’s too heavy. It’s all too heavy. I can’t carry you.”

“Then don’t,” Steve says, and he crawls forwards and puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’d rather you didn’t have to carry me at all, then watch you try and leave because of it.”

“But you’re my omega,” Bucky hoarsely protests. “I have to at least help you through your heat.”

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve says, and rests his chin against Bucky’s shoulder. “I can wait.”

“You can,” Bucky says. “But you shouldn’t. You wouldn’t.”

Steve stares at him. “Bucky.”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He lies back down, and lies down with his back to Steve. Steve stares at him, breathing deeply. He doesn’t get a wink of sleep.

\-----

When the sun is up, the ache at the end of Steve’s spine has intensified and as predicted, Bucky is gone. A black hole opens up in Steve’s insides and swallows his ability to breathe. To speak. To think.

Quivering with despair and disappointment, he stands up. His hole is starting to throb and leak. He goes to the bathroom, and turns on the water in the mist setting. He makes the shower cold, and steps into the water. His body’s shaking worsens, and he closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Somehow he must’ve gotten his expectations up. Why would he otherwise feel this way?

He quickly washes his body, and sprays scent neutralizers on his scent glands, before stepping out of the bathroom. His body has already heated up by the time he has put on his underwear and pad.

That’s about the amount of productivity he can accomplish. He slumps down on the bed, and is immediately hit with Bucky’s faded scent. He tries to dwell on it, tries to feel reassured and safe, but instead the smell reminds him of the loss, of the past, of the things he has regretted, things he feels helpless about, because there’s not anything he can do now; how he hadn’t dared take that step with Bucky, until other hands had touched him. How his submission to Yasmin had felt too much like failure; like a lousy compromise. If Bucky and he had mated, would he have known Bucky had survived? Been able to rescue him? Even if Steve had had to crash the plane, the SSR could’ve kept searching if Steve had been sure, Bucky was alive. 70 years could’ve been fifty, thirty, twenty.

But Steve lets the fantasy die. SSR hired Zola themselves. You can’t expect a snake to not be a snake. You can’t expect it not to strike, not to set its teeth into its prey and letting the poison seep in. But you can blame the person, who thought a snake could ever become a pet. You can blame them for allowing the pet its secrets.

Steve jolts up. Aggressively he peels the covers off the pillows and duvets, the linen off the bed. He stomps to his washing room, and throws them into the washing machine. He grabs a gel tablet and throws it in, tabbing in the hottest, longest setting, and goes to spray scent neutralizer all over his bed. He continues until his eyes water, before putting on new linen. As he puts another cover on the duvet and pillows, the hint of Bucky’s scent hits his nose, and enraged he drags his pillows and duvet to his tiny balcony, where he viciously spray them with neutralizers, and slams the door shut. He takes a second to breath for a moment, before he walks back to his bedroom and takes out his spare duvets and pillows.

He tries to reason with himself. He can’t expect things of Bucky, not after all he has been through. Sure, Bucky has showed that he’s capable of taking care of himself, but being functional doesn’t mean that he’s able to have space enough within himself to handle such a sharp shard of his past, like Steve. And still, the bitterness drowns the resolution, the forgiveness.

What is wrong with Steve?

He lies down again, and clutches his body. Half of this feeling of withdrawal is probably do to the heat coming on, the heat screaming for his alpha to come back. To help him. To nurture him. Take care of him.

Definitely something wrong with him.

He can feel the anxiety start to seep in as he shakes. He should probably call someone. At least try to manage this healthily, try for support, but he knows it won’t help. He’s so alone. He’s so fucking alone in this century, in this body, in this room, in his head.

\----

Steve doesn’t exactly come to. In some part of his mind, he becomes aware that there’s warmth around his shoulders, that someone is gingerly holding his neck. At first he doesn’t care about it, but something in him pulls towards the sensation, towards the disturbance, until he becomes more aware of his cold, shaking body. On the scale he is heavy, and yet he feels frail, small and paper thin. He inhales deeply and his body abruptly starts shaking again or perhaps it never stopped, and panic flutters in him as he wonders where the Hell he is, and what happened to him.

But he identifies his own covers, his bed, his bedroom wall, which Steve admittedly has stared at more than he cares to admit. Then he notices the pair of feet hanging out over his bed, the grey socks and the black seams of denim jeans. He starts to look up, and sees a Bordeaux sweatshirt. Someone is rumbling around in his kitchen, boiling water.

He exhales, and tenses, looking up. Sam meets his eyes, and as Steve blinks, the hand around his neck tightens and a wave of reassuring pheromones washes over Steve. He blinks sluggishly at Sam, before looking down at himself. He’s lying on top of a heating blanket, covered with a duvet. Which is weird, because he overheats when he’s in heat, but right now he feels cold.

He relaxes. “How did you get in?” he asks.

“Through the front door,” Sam says. “Natasha had a spare key.”

Steve inhales deeply, his body twitching and Sam soothingly rubs a scent gland, pumping more of their shared scent in the room. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Stabilizing your heat without actually doing something violating,” Sam says, his voice apologetic. “I’m sorry if I was out of hand. You were dropping pretty hard when we came.”

Steve frowns. “But you were in D.C.”

“You weren’t looking thrilled about your heat coming up,” Natasha says. She’s standing at the door with three mugs of steaming drinks. She floats inside, and distributes them, handing Sam a chai latte, herself a green tea and Steve something spicy and oily-looking. He sniffs at it, and it smells sweet. Taking a sip, he immediately purses his lips. There is vodka in this drink.

“What the Hell, Tasha,” Steve says. “I’m in heat.”

Sam leans forwards and sniffs at it. “Is there alcohol in this?”

“Are you gonna become pregnant this heat?” Natasha calmly asks, sipping her tea.

“No.”

“Then drink your vodka.”

Steve looks at her and then shrugs, doing as she tells him.

“Was he here?” Natasha asks a minute later.

“Yeah,” Steve says, vaguely surprised that she had to ask.

Right. He washed everything.

“He left,” Steve continued when both of them looked at him in expectation. “We didn’t do anything together. We talked a bit, and he kept insisting that he could help me through the heat and not leave this time. I said I’d rather wait than be left to drop again, and he started saying that he couldn’t carry an omega, and I said he wouldn’t have to, that’d I’d wait, and he said I shouldn’t have to. I said I loved him. He went to sleep with me. This morning he was gone.”

They don’t say anything for some minutes, Steve burning his stomach and throat with the vodka, while Sam absently rubs Steve’s scent glands on his wrists.

“Maybe you should start on the suppressants sooner than we anticipated,” Natasha proposes. Steve doesn’t answer.

\----

Natasha leaves as the heat really starts. Sam lingers, looks at Steve with those calm, gentle eyes and asks if Steve wants help this time. Steve is close to saying yes. He knows Sam is the last person, who will let the help change their relationship. He ends up saying no though. He feels like Sam got him through the drop just fine, and that was the worst part of the heat. Steve goes to the bathroom, and takes a cold shower.

When he comes back out, having a particular toy in mind, his alpha is sitting on his bed. And he looks pissed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Told you I would update soon this time B-)  
> Enjoy!

”Bucky – ” Steve starts, hope flaring in his chest, only to be shut down when Bucky rises up with thunder in his eyes.

”Are you fucking him?” Bucky growls.

”What?” Steve asks.

”That winged guy!” Bucky snaps. ”Are you fucking him?”

”Sam?” Steve asks, and two emotions erupt in him. Indignity and anger. But like always, anger wins.

”His smell is everywhere!” Bucky shouts, marching past Steve into the kitchen. ”And you fucking removed all of mine!? What? Am I secret? Does he know you’re fucking me?”

”Sam and I are – ”

”How long?” Bucky asks, and his organic hand is shaking. ”How long, Stevie?”

Steve stares at him, his heart turning into lead and dropping into his stomach. ”Me and Sam aren’t and haven’t ever been together,” he numbly says. “I dropped after you left. Natasha came by, and she brought Sam, who ended up stabilizing my hormones. That’s all it was.”

Bucky’s eyes are red. He points at a plastic bag sitting on the kitchen table. ”I was shopping for us,” he informs, his voice lower and yet still shaking with anger. ”And I come back, and you’ve thrown my stuff outside. I’ve been sitting on the roof, looking at my sheets in your balcony, fucking wondering when they’d leave, when _he’d_ leave.”

Steve shakes his head, and comes nearer to Bucky. ”Bucky, please, this is not what you think. Sam offered, but I said no.”

”You wanted to.”

”Of course, I wanted to,” Steve finally snaps back, even though Bucky flinches. “I thought you’d left me. The heats are long and cold and lonely, Bucky.”

”I told you I would help with that!”

”You also told me, that you couldn’t muster it.”

”Well, clearly I have to since you might fuck somebody else if I don’t,” Bucky hisses, his words seeping venom into Steve’s veins like venom.

Steve slams his palm down on the table. ”I wouldn’t do it without talking to you first!”

”You’re fucking lying!” Bucky screams, his voice puffing up and he hits the flower vase on top of Steve’s kitchen bar. It doesn’t even fly, just smashes into his pieces right as he hits it. Steve is jolted, his stomach clenching. He’s only wearing a towel, his body is cold and hot, ready to fight and yet numb.

”Is that what you’ve been doing?” Bucky keeps on yelling, his eyes turning red and watering, making the grey of his irises look blue and glossy. ”You didn’t want me when we were young, because you were fucking somebody else?”

”Bucky,” Steve says, his voice cracking as his lungs squeeze. ”You know it’s not like that.”

”Funny, because you tell me no and then just lets this Sam guy stay over while you’re in heat,” Bucky shouts. ”What’s the point of telling me it’s okay to wait, if you’re not gonna wait for me?”

“Hey, I’m waiting,” Steve quickly reassures as he steps forwards and puts his sweaty palms on Bucky’s cheeks. His stomach is clenching, his discomfort and general feeling of instability, fucking with his body. He sniffs, and finally realizes he is crying as well, as he kisses Bucky’s slightly greasy hair, his frowned forehead, his high temple and his wet cheeks, and Steve whispers, “I’m sorry,” but then Bucky is kissing him, and Steve is kissing back, his lips feeling sensitive and far away at the same time. The feeling of Bucky putting his hands on Steve’s back and pushing him closer, holding him closer, feels like the world abruptly caving in.

Bucky’s body stimulates all of Steve’s senses, and Steve can only see darkness, smell sweet summer and pine needles, feel his ass leaking, Bucky’s fingers brushing his bare skin, feel the flesh one rub the concave curve where Steve’s back ends and his flanks start. Steve clenches, and Bucky’s finger goes lower. Steve’s so wet, and Bucky’s finger immediately slips down, until the towel falls off.

Steve can feel a cold and hurting hand grab him around his thigh, lifting up Steve’s leg, opening Steve up and the scent fills the room like waves. Steve is just trying to breathe, because he can’t think, he can only feel, so when Bucky starts tugging at Steve’s other leg, Steve willingly lets himself be lifted.

Bucky groans, as Steve clasps his legs around Bucky’s waist, and he rolls his hip, and Steve can feel how he drips on Bucky, how Steve’s dick chafes against the hard texture of Bucky’s jeans.

Steve groans, part in pain and part in the arousal, which he seemingly only feels because he of that pain. Bucky takes a small step away from the kitchen, not breaking the kiss all the while, and he’s sucking Steve’s tongue as he tries to head towards the bedroom.

A cramp of arousal makes Steve’s hole flutter as it loosens, and Bucky growls, before abruptly bowing down by the kitchen table, swiping newspapers, salt and pepper, a sketchbook, a vase and a pot of sugar down on the floor. Before Steve gets to assess the damage, he is thrown onto the table, and he grabs it by the edges as Bucky keeps holding him close, even as he lets of Steve’s lips to go downwards, suck Steve’s nipples and Steve has to scream, because everything hurt and clenches and feels so amazingly good at the same time.

Bucky slides down further, and there’s no teasing at all, he immediately gets Steve’s cock into his mouth and sucks it into the back of his throat. Steve shouts in surprise, feeling the head of his cock well past Bucky’s gag reflex, and he twitches, wants more and for a minute Bucky gives it to him, lets Steve desperately fuck his throat, before Bucky abruptly stands up, rips off his pants, and before Steve can even blink, Bucky is pushing inside.

Steve cries out, because it’s too much, too much stimulation, too much to be able to contain. He is on fire, and with every hard and dragged out thrust, Steve is reshaped, and sparks are flying, and he doesn’t know who he is, he just knows he is united, knows that there’s no start to where he begins and Bucky stops. The world becomes tiny, as the feeling of getting fucked takes over, until no matter what Bucky does – which is not a lot, he is keening and growling as he pistons his hips over and over again, only looking at Steve, only feeling Steve – feels good, feels like being nearly pushed over the edge. Bucky is clasping at his neck, and Steve can’t help but grab it, press Bucky’s flesh hand down and curl his legs around Bucky’s waist. He wishes that it would never stop.

Bucky puts his metal hand on the back of Steve’s head, holds Steve close as he plunges his tongue into Steve’s mouth, onto the hollows of Steve’s neck, and Steve can feel the edges of teeth against his scent gland, and his hands around Bucky’s shoulders tighten, nails making warning red moons, but before he can become worried, Bucky lowers down, and bites around Steve’s nipple. Steve cries out again, his legs lifting up and shaking, and he can feel the hard stub of Bucky’s knot, and he’s gasping “Yes, fuck, give it to me,” before Bucky impossibly starts fucking him harder, until the table legs are skidding and dragging, the edge of the table banging against the wall, and Steve is constantly moaning now, the feeling so good.

A hand around Steve’s neck, pressing down, and he’s gone.

He screams out his orgasm, his legs flinching and shaking, his vision momentarily turning black. All he can feel is his tinkling, sensitive cock, his hole clasping and clasping, and he’s making broken moans, scratching Bucky’s back. He can’t feel his toes, and Bucky shouts once, as he rams his knot inside. Steve hisses and sobs, everything becoming hazy.

Bucky groans hard as he makes a few hard thrusts, and Steve can feel the hot spurts of cum coat him inside.

“Yes, fuck,” he groans, even as something is tingling in the back of his head. He has forgotten something. Something important.

But right now, his fingers are still scratching the table, and Bucky is mewling. Steve shakes with the aftershocks, the intensity of coming down, and Bucky is shaking even more than Steve.

Steve reaches up and puts his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck, playing with his dark hair a little, trying to hold still because every time his hips twitch Bucky flinches.

Steve too is shaken up. This time it had been so much more intense than last time, and Steve wonders where the Hell it has come from. He wonders if the intensity of their mating, will exhaust Bucky even more than before and if Bucky will leave right away this time.

“Bucky,” he whispers. “Are you alright?”

Bucky whimpers, and continues quivering, almost like he’s cold.

“It’s okay,” Steve shushes. “It’s okay. You’re alright. I’m here with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers.

“It’s okay,” Steve repeats. “It’s okay. We both lost control.”

“I almost bit you.”

“But you didn’t. And that’s what matters.”

Bucky nuzzles his warm nose against Steve’s neck, and Steve puts his arms around him. Pleasure is still rolling in his abdomen, making his dick and hole feel like hot liquid. He sighs, and closes his eyes, stroking Bucky’s back.

After a while Bucky’s breath stops hitching, and his knot has deflated enough for him to slip out. Steve feels too lazy to move, even though his back hurts. He can feel seed roll out of his hole and down to the table, making it sticky and slick. He makes a face, and sits up. Bucky is looking at Steve like Steve is ready to break, and though Steve’s knees do currently not want to assist, he feels surprisingly alright. Bucky puts his arms around Steve’s neck as soon as Steve stands up, and they kiss themselves into ease. Steve pulls back, and takes Bucky’s hand, leading him into the bedroom.

And that’s when he realizes what has been nagging him.

He doesn’t have any morning after pill.

Bucky can feel him tense, and lifts his head. “Steve?”

Steve jumps up and runs around his room, looking for his jacket and finding it on a hanger. “Drugstore, emergency contraception.” He gives Bucky his wallet. “Go now.”

Bucky sighs. “Where do you think I went this morning?” He gets up and walks away. Steve hears Bucky rustling in the kitchen as he sits on the bedside, and then Bucky comes back with the bag he pointed out earlier, which turns out to have different small drugstore brand bags in them. “I didn’t know what you needed, and how many,” Bucky says. “I had to walk around from drugstore to drugstore, because they didn’t want to sell me more than one of each. Why is that?”

“Can’t sell too many drugs at once,” Steve explains as he pulls out the bags, looking at each pack of pills in them. “People will use them to overdose.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. You bought all sorts of prevention, even though we decided…”

“Hey, you were sending pretty mixed signals,” Bucky says. “I wanted to be sure. Last time your pheromones were off, so I knew the likability of a pup was low.”

“Yeah, my uterus hadn’t figured its shit out yet.”

Thank Lord, Bucky also bought condoms.

Steve visited Dr. Cho after Bucky helped him through his heat three months ago. She was the one who had managed the damage of suppressant overdose and instructed him on how he could repair it (cold turkey, it turned out). She also gave Steve instructions on what combination and amount of prevention he had to take, in case he had unprotected sex again (if his Ma or the nuns could see him now). Steve is grateful for Bucky’s good work, because all of the pills he needs are in there, and he carefully collects them.

Bucky gets a glass of water, and when he sees Steve’s handful of pills, he visibly startles.

“Isn’t that too much?” he asks, as Steves takes them all at once and drinks the water.

Steve coughs. “Nah. I’m immune to most drugs, unless they’re combined and tripled in certain ways.”

“Oh. I didn’t remember that.”

Steve looks at him, and reaches out. “Come to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one epilogue-ish chapter of this, and then this series will be finished.
> 
> I'm currently writing an Alternate Steves meet and drive Tony nuts!fic. It will be a Post-Civil War fix it fic, and the alternate Steves are from 6 fics I've already written. Here we will see omega!Steve again, a coupla years later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait :/ enjoy!

When Steve opens his eyes next morning he’s not nervous, because he can feel Bucky’s warm arm slung over his waist. Bucky is awake, and it takes a moment for Steve to realize why.

Natasha is standing in front of the bed, a gun aimed at Bucky. Bucky has a gun aimed right back at her. Natasha is breathing slowly, her face blank and Steve admires her courage. The Winter Soldier has shot her twice, and still she opposes him without any second thoughts.

Steve elbows Bucky in the ribs, and Bucky grumbles.

“Put the guns away,” he mumbles at them. “Natasha, I want Bucky to be here. Bucky, Natasha can be here too.”

When none of them lowers the gun first, Steve shoots a hand out and wriggles the gun out of Bucky’s hand. Bucky scowls at him, but Natasha puts her own gun away, her eyes not leaving the Soldier.

“I was finding you a special safehouse and everything,” Natasha says, casually sitting down.

Steve blinks at her. “Don’t you have enough of those?” he asks.

Natasha shoots Bucky a look.  _ Not one he probably doesn’t know about.  _ “I’m making coffee before the next wave hits,” she informs them and struts into the kitchen.

Steve sighs, and looks at Bucky, whose lips are pursed.

“She wants the best for you,” Bucky slowly says through clenched jaws, like he’s pulling teeth out just doing it. “I want you to have a network. Stop looking at me like that.”

Instead of answering, Steve leans in and kisses Bucky’s temple. “I’ll make sure that Sam won’t come.”

A flash of relief comes over Bucky’s face and he nods tersely, before getting up and bringing Steve a bathrobe, indirectly stating that he doesn’t want Steve to wash and get rid of Bucky’s claiming scent.

Steve takes it and stands up. His thighs and lower back ache in a way he hasn’t experienced before, and he wonders how hard they must have gone at it for there to be lasting pain.

Steve puts on the bathrobe, and steps into the kitchen, only for his face to redden. Right. The kitchen table. The poor kitchen table. 

Natasha sends him a knowing smirk from the sink, and offers him a cup of coffee. Gratefully Steve takes it, and they both lean up against the kitchen drawers, sipping the bitter black liquid, while looking out of the window. It’s a calm morning.

“Thank you,” Steve says. “For this. Always being there for me. I don’t think I say it enough.”

She sends him an expressionless look, before nudging his shoulder with hers. “No problem, Steve,” she says. “You would do the same.”

He looks at her. He would. He would go to the end of the world for her. His hands shake and his anxiety twists in his chest by the thought of her ever being in risk of getting hurt.

He gently cups his hand around her bicep, and lets his cheek rest on her head. Her shampoo smells like lime and strawberry today. Sometimes it’s lavender, and other times it’s a spicy cocktail of flowers.

“But the safe houses need to stop,” he says.

She groans and straightens away from him. “Way to ruin the moment, Steve.”

“You have thirty of them just on the East Coast,” Steve argues. “You don’t need another one.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists. “What if Bucky was a maniac stalker, and you had to hide somewhere. 15 of those safe houses are on the SHIELD data I put online.”

“But they’re probably not even registered in your name,” Steve asks, and her face gives nothing away. “Still, that leaves 15 of them, which you haven’t registered.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she insists with a candy cone sweet smile.

\-----

She leaves before Bucky has finished showering, which Steve believes is for the best. Small steps after all.

Bucky sits on the bed, and Steve brings him a cup of coffee. Bucky sips at it as he looks at Steve, his eyes wide and grey.

“Again,” Bucky says.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Ask me again,” Bucky says. “Ask if I will stay.”

Steve blinks. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

“No, I wanna know why.”

“Aren’t omegas supposed to be compliant in their heat?”

“Aren’t alphas supposed to reassure them in their heat?”

“What am I trying to?”

“What have we talked about already?” Steve says, perhaps more harshly than he ought to be, but he is getting sick of this conversation.

And Bucky seems to sense the circle too, because instead of saying that Steve broke his part of the deal too, he leans forwards and nuzzles Steve’s neck. Steve wraps an arm around Bucky’s waist, and leans his temple against the alpha’s buffed shoulder.

“I don’t need to ask,” Steve mutters. “You know what I want.”

Bucky closes his eyes, and his thick lashes are dark on his cheekbones. 

He breathes for a minute, before tugging Steve into the bathroom. He’s awfully silent as switches on the tub’s faucet and undresses Steve. He makes Steve sit down in the water, and Steve wordlessly reaches out a hand. Bucky takes it, and presses his lips against the palm, nuzzling his nose against the skin’s surface, before pressing his forehead against it. Steve’s fingers come into contact with his still damp hair, and he nudges the front of Bucky’s scalp. They sit like that for a while, Bucky kludging Steve’s hand like he would float away if he let go.

Steve blinks in surprise, when the tub has finished filling up and Bucky lets go to start washing him. He lathers Steve’s body and muscles with scentless soap, spurts shampoo in Steve’s greasy hair and gently massages Steve’s scalp. Steve closes his eyes as Bucky washes his hair, and then continues to put conditioner in it. Steve is starting to feel the familiar heat in his stomach by then, and he starts to tug at Bucky, until the man complies and climbs into the tub. The water splashes out of the tub’s edges, wettening the floor and the bath rugs. Steve instinctually spreads his legs, pulling Bucky in, his hands creeping towards Bucky’s fly, trying to open it as Bucky’s hands come to rest on Steve’s cheeks, his kiss deep and passionate from the get go, all tongue and teeth biting down on Steve’s lip. Steve sighs, lifting his chin to direct Bucky’s mouth to his neck. Bucky does lower to give the sensitive skin there attention, but his hands are starting to roll Steve around. Steve lets himself be moved, his arms coming up to curl around the front of the tub’s edge, his knees bending so he can arch his back and rub against Bucky’s groin. Bucky groans, his hands coming down to kludge at Steve’s flanks, but instead of unbuttoning his fly, Bucky pulls all the way back, until Steve can feel his breath against Steve’s ass.

Steve keens in eagerness, wiggling his ass and Bucky quickly spreads his cheeks, planting his lower face to Steve’s leaking hole. The touch alone makes Steve moan, and Bucky doesn’t tease too much. He licks at Steve’s rim, feels Steve tensing in stimulation and anticipation. The blond tries to look over his shoulder, but can only see the strong curve of Bucky’s shoulder.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please, please – “

Bucky thrusts in his tongue, and Steve jolts with pleasure, his hand slipping from the edge and into the water. He glides down until only his neck and jaw keep his head up from the water. Bucky in ruthless, serving everything Steve wants on a plate, giving and giving in such a quick pace that Steve almost feels overwhelmed. He groans and keens as his hand slip down to his groin, his hand stroking his cock. Surprisingly enough Bucky lets him, and only fucks him harder with his tongue, forcing Steve to fuck into his fist until he comes with a load moan.

He slumps, momentarily satisfied, but before Bucky’s mouth has even let him, the fire in his belly once again blazes up, and Steve turns around, pushing Bucky into the water and straddling him.

“Wait, wait,” Bucky says. “Condom.”

Steve blinks and then nods, before rising from the tub. Dripping wet he goes through his cabinet. Most of his stash is in his bedroom, but he knows he has a spare condom in the cabinet.

He finds it, and goes back to Bucky, who has taken his pants off in the meanwhile and stepped out of the tub. They hurry into the bedroom, leaving pools of water behind, and Steve doesn’t waste any time. He pushes Bucky into the bed, and straddles him. Bucky watches him with half-closed eyes as Steve dries his cock with the edge of the linen, before rolling down the condom. He raises his hips and lets himself sink down. Bucky groans, his shoulders trembling and Steve rests his palms against Bucky’s bulky chest as he starts to ride him. His eyes close as the fire in his stomach magnifies, that wonderful tickle in his cock, in his hole, spurring him to ride Bucky quicker and quicker, wanting to scratch that itch, wanting to make Bucky cum, wanting, wanting –

Bucky groans as his knot starts to swell, and Steve ruthlessly bottoms on every lowering of his ass, tries to make the knot slip inside him. He writhes as he finally success, and Bucky’s hands fly up, pushing at Steve to make him lie down, but Steve grabs Bucky’s hands and presses them into the linen, pounding down on Bucky until Bucky cries out and comes. The knot swells even more, and Steve lowers on him, sucking and biting at Bucky’s lips, jaw and neck, still rolling his hips, feeling the knot stimulate all of his erogenous nerves until his cock sputters and spits slick out. His vision fades as the waves of pleasure overcome him, and the desperate heat at the end of his spine turns into an intense throbbing, a heat that’s not scolding, but instead makes him sweat.

Steve sighs and tries to position himself in a more comfortable position, before he loses.

“Stay,” Steve whispers. “But leave, if you must. I’ll always wait for you.”

\-----

Later, Bucky is braiding his hair in organized segments, and in fascination Steve watches him arrange the braids in a careful, elegant up-do.

“Pretty,” Steve compliments, smiling against the pillow.

“Really?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms. “Where did you learn that?”

“Pinterest,” Bucky replies. “Instagram.”

Steve doesn’t comment on Bucky’s sudden interest in doing complicated hairstyles. The guy used to care a lot for how he looked, but never in this way. He had never expressed interest in the aesthetically pleasing handcraft women predominantly liked to dress up; it was always Steve who noticed it, the ombre of their lipstick application, the cat-like flick of their eye makeup, the dewy bronzy cream their rubbed their bodies in these days, the shimmering peak of their cheekbones.

“It’s nice,” Bucky says perhaps a bit quickly. “Calming. Almost meditative.”

Steve smiles. “I’m glad. It still suits you.” He becomes silent, and wonders if it would be over the line to buy Bucky hair accessories when he came by next time.

Bucky lowers down besides him, and Steve gently feels at the smooth texture of the hair straightened out, the silky bumps of the locks of hair tied together.

Bucky closes his eyes for a bit, and mummers: “Turn on the TV.”

Steve raises to search his shelfs for the remote control. The TV had been here when he moved in, but he had never used it. It felt inappropriate to watch TV in the place he was supposed to sleep.

But he turns it on, and the channel is on CNN News. Steve blinks as he sees Tony’s face show up. Steve turns up the volume, and catches Tony say: “I am  _ not _ going grab anybody by the pussy. Just because – “

“Anthony Edward Stark, also known as Iron Man, a member of the Avengers, was exposed as having been the person Donald Trump talked to during his ‘ _ locker room talk’  _ which was taped _.  _ The leaked tape has gone viral on social media, where many express contempt towards the alpha Avenger for having indulged on a so-called sexist and offensive conversation, which endorses ‘rape culture’. Many thinks this is problematic particular regarding to his teammate, and some might even call leader of the team, Captain America, who recently came out as a male omega.”  __

Steve groans, and grabs for his phone. He finds Tony’s number in his contacts, and rings Tony up. Bucky is watching him with half amused, half concerned look on his face.

“Talking about the Devil,” Tony says when he picks up.

“Junior, what did you do?” Steve asks.

“Well, I did eat a ham sandwich this afternoon and worked on the Quinjet’s fuel- “

“Why are you associated with Donald Trump?” Steve says.

Tony laughs. “Cap, you’re on camera.”

“What.”

“I put you on speaker. Say hello to Ellen.”

Steve frowns, and then hears Ellen’s cheery voice on the phone: “Hey Captain America! You’re live on TV!”

Ellen, as in one of the most popular TV hosts in the American media, and also an openly gay omega woman. Bucky takes the remote and switches to the channel where, truly enough, Tony is sitting with Ellen. A giant teddy platypus lies in the background for some reason.

“We were just talking about ya,” she says, her blue round eyes staring into the camera as if she knows they’re watching. “How do you feel about Tony’s recent association with Trump?”

Steve sighs, and Bucky puts a hand on his mouth, suppressing a smile. “I have never experienced a behavior from Iron Man that indicates that he stands for sexism or rape culture of any kind,” he says, putting his Captain America voice on. “Not when he believed I was an alpha, and especially not when I came out. On the contrary, Iron Man observed my behavior when he believed I was an alpha, to make sure I wouldn’t do something which in my time was acceptable and in this day and age is established as offensive.” He psuses. “When I came out he was nothing but supportive.”

He doesn’t mention the “got any pups in the oven”-comment Tony gave an omega interviewer. Not because he isn’t ready to admit it as wrong, but because he knows a lot of the Avengers’ funding and reputation is dependent on the public opinion, and if Steve, as Tony’s teammate says something mildly harsh, it will be blown up and politically the Avengers will suffer.

Instead he says: “He speaks out of his ass, and says things that are inappropriate, but not with any ill intentions. But that applies to everything he does, not just omegas.”

Ellen hums and says: “Can we have an example?”

Steve thinks. “He likes to spook people while they pee.”

He hears the audience chuckle. 

“It was terrible. Hawkeye stained the wall. It was our jet’s only toilet. It smelled in there for days,” Steve good-naturedly continues. “And let’s not even talk about him and Dr. Banner.” 

“It was funny,” Tony sniffs.

“The team disagrees,” Steve responds. “Ellen, do you mind me helping you interview Tony a bit?”

“Sure, go ahead, Captain America!”

“Tony,” Steve says, a little more seriously. “Were you the one Donald Trump talked to on that tape?”

It had been unclear for the whole two weeks the tape had been out. The other person had laughed, chuckled and hummed in disagreement, but never actually said anything so there was no way to tell. 

“No!” Tony exclaims. “I was in the room, but Trump was talking to that old fart of an Alabama minister.”

“Why didn’t you say anything if you knew this conversation was going on?” Steve asks nonetheless.

“Caaaaaaap,” Tony whines, staring into the camera and right out at Steve.

“Junior,” Steve says. “I hope you won’t let such an instance repeat itself.”

Ellen claps Tony’s shoulder. “Is that his ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ voice?” she whispers.

Tony nods. “Alright, Cap, can’t let you steal the spotlight for too much. What are you doing?”

“I’m remaking your training regime to compensate for your lack of moral,” Steve gleefully tells him. “See you in a week!”

He hangs up and the audience erupts in laughter again. Steve takes the remote control and switches the channel to some cartoon channel, and lets Bucky spoon him and rub a hand in circles on Steve’s chest.

“That’s Howard’s kid?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t have a filter and isn’t always so good at reading people, but he’s a good kid.”

Bucky nods, his hand sliding over Steve’s hipbone.

Steve smiles at him. He is uncertain of the future, but as he looks at Bucky, he knows there will be one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ^^

**Author's Note:**

> Authors fuel on comments.


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